


Apt pupil

by adreamitself (awalkingdenial)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Alternate Universe, Angst, Blackmail, Caretaking, Codependency, Dark Will, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Graphic Description, Hannibal is 32, Hannibal is Hannibal, Hannibal is a Cannibal, M/M, Mind Games, Panic Attacks, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Will is a Mess, Will is almost 18
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2018-11-06 22:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11045193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awalkingdenial/pseuds/adreamitself
Summary: Will Graham blackmails his neighbor, Hannibal Lecter, after finding out he's a killer.In exchange for silence, he obtains stories.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I must confess I haven't read King's Apt pupil: I haven't even seen the movie. I just read a synopsis that caught my attention and pushed me to write this.

 

 

_ “Ere I could make a prologue to my brains, _

_They had begun the play— […]”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Will’s hands are sticky with sweat. He clutches and stretches his fingers nervously, trying to distress himself. 

 

Is he really doing this? Is he knocking at his neighbor’s door and risking his life to blackmail him?

 

It’s late September but the sun has no mercy, Will thinks. It shines through the boughs of the oak he’s standing under, back resting on its trunk.

 

Minutes pass.

 

When he finds himself knocking he is not even sure he’d be able to explain how he got where he is. Anxiety fogs his mind like steam. 

 

The wooden door is dark and smooth. Looks expensive and probably is. For some reason, Will would like to rest his cheek on its surface, but he restrains himself as soon as he hears _someone_ opening it.

 

The man—Hannibal Lecter, is standing there, right in front of Will. It feels weirdly exciting and somehow scary too. Will had spent countless hours spying on him from afar, hidden, while he shopped, went for a run or simply passed his time in the comfort of his house, when the curtains were open.

 

Even if his features are familiar, they _feel_ foreign to Will’s memory now that he’s so near. He has sharp cheekbones, a pouty and bow-shaped upper lip and his eyes are a unique shade of hazel-red. Will had mistaken it for brown. He’s way taller than him, that Will knew, but he’s way thinner and more athletic than expected. Maybe the multilayered clothes hid the angles and muscles of his body, maybe they were a way to soften his figure.

 

Lecter is staring at him in both mild surprise and annoyance.

 

Will is being rude.

 

“Good afternoon, Sir. I’m Will Graham. I live a few minutes from here. I really need to talk to you.” 

 

_He can do this._

 

“Good afternoon to you, Will. I will forgive your light-minded decision of presenting at my doorstep without forewarning for the sake of your young age. How old are you?” he tilts his head, the shadow of a smile curving his lips.

 

“I’m almost eighteen, and I have a valid reason to be here” he protested weakly.

 

“Then why are we wasting our time? Tell me, Will.”

 

Will can’t help but try and look at the house’s inside. “We should get in for that.”

 

The man raises an eyebrow. “Inviting yourself in is quite rude, isn’t it? I’m not sure I’m enjoying your behavior that much.”

 

Goosebumps of anxiety rush down Will’s spine. _He can do this_. “Hopefully not rude enough to become your next meal.”

 

Hannibal’s facade falls. Will’s brain flashes an image of a collapsing building. Lecter is clearly taken aback, but there’s no fear on his face, nothing that betrays him feeling threatened. “Well, then. You may come in,” he steps aside and cocks his head to invite him.

 

Adrenaline gives Will the strength to walk in. If he doesn’t play his cards well, he’s not surviving through this. 

 

The door closes behind him. He expects Hannibal to lock it, but he doesn’t.

 

He cuts the man off before he starts talking. “Yes, I fear you’ll kill me.”

 

Hannibal makes a little smile. “I’ll make you a tea. A brew of cinnamon, cocoa and ginger. I also have some fresh almond biscuits today. Sounds good to you? I promise I will not poison it,” he adds. “I could never disrespect _food_ like that.”

 

Will nods, swallowing. Food as what he’d be serving, or the food-to-be Will?

 

“Good. Have a seat. The living room’s over there,” he gestures the end of the hallway. “I’ll be there in minute.”

 

Will sits on a huge sofa to not risk sitting next to his guest. The sofa isn’t the only huge thing in the room. Everything looks monumental to him. The walls are painted a stark burgundy, softened only by the natural light that shines through thin ivory curtains.

 

Will hears Hannibal’s steps approaching and tenses up suddenly.

 

“Hope you enjoy,” he places a tray carrying two sealed cups, a plate of biscuits, honey and two cloth napkins on the small table before them. He himself sits on the couch, not too far, not too near Will.

 

“Thank you,” Will says out of social habit.

 

“You’re welcome. Now,” he prompts. “I’m listening.”

 

Throat suddenly dry, Will swallows and clears his voice. “I have a deal for you.”

 

Hannibal’s expression gets utterly amused. “You do?” he takes his cup, removes its cover and smells his infusion, humming in appreciation.

 

“I knew you wouldn’t have killed me on your doorstep. I know you you’re deciding wether to kill me now or later,” Will is preparing himself so he can bear the man’s gaze. “I obviously would prefer to live. If I were to die, an encrypted email service would send an email with the truth about _what_ —who you are to some addresses at Jack Crawford’s department. To avoid this, I will have to enter a password every night.”

 

“What makes you think I can’t kill you and then flee right after? I do not lack the possibilities.”

 

“It would displease you to leave. You like it here.”

 

“Not a displeasure I can’t overcome.”

 

Will unseals his cup too. He puts a spoonful of honey in it. He mostly takes it because his hands are low-key shaking and he doesn't know what to do with them. “I know something you can’t overcome.”

 

“That is?”

 

Will closes his eyes. “ _Loneliness_. You’re alone. You enjoy solitude, but you miss having someone that understands you fully, like I do. The mere fact that I’m still alive proves me right,” he takes a careful sip. It tastes unbelievably good. 

 

Hannibal nods. He is not unimpressed. “That’s true, at times,” he admits. “I understand you have an empathy disorder. It still doesn’t unfold to me the truth about how you exposed me.”

 

At that, Will blushes. “I’ve been following and observing you for months…”

 

“I think the word you’re looking for is _stalking_.”

 

“Might be. My father’s an old friend of mr Crawford’s wife, Bella. We meet up a lot. I’ve heard a lot about you, about the _Ripper_. I went through some of Jack’s files. Things added up after some months.” 

 

“What a remarkable intelligence you can be proud of. A step ahead of the law enforcement. Doesn’t it stain your conscience to be here threatening me instead of telling your father the truth?”

 

“Don’t play mind games with me. If I felt guilty, I wouldn't be here.”

 

Hannibal leans in a bit, elbows on his knees. “ _Lovely_ ,” he whispers.

 

Will doesn’t know what he refers to, or what to say to that.

 

“So, Will. What do I trade your silence with? You’re here to blackmail me, after all.”

 

Will feels his chest and cheeks heat up. “I want you to tell me.”

 

The corner of Hannibal’s eyes soften. “Tell you what?”

 

Will’s voice drops low. “ _Everything_.”

 

When Hannibal Lecter smiles and nods, it feels both like a promise and a threat.

 

 


	2. Sweet Williams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised myself I would have waited a week before updating, but after the absolutely unexpected and incredibly warm support I got from you all I thought, why not today? Some of you really wanted more. Here you go wonderful people. Thank you!

_“Plain and not honest is too harsh a style.”_

 

 

 

 

The school hallway is full of teens walking to their lockers, chatting about the latest gossips in groups of three or more. 

 

The place is an indistinct agglomeration of different feelings and emotions flowing in tidal waves: Will can barely keep his head straight as he tries to focus on what his friend Beverly is saying.

 

“…totally why I’m failing tomorrow’s test. Not my fault,” she points out raising both her hands and tilting her head. Her hair falls on the side, a pitch black waterfall.

 

Will smiles and nods. He loves his friend and doesn’t want to disappoint her by not paying attention to her. 

 

Beverly is his best friend. Sure, he has Jimmy and Brian too; they often join them at lunch and sometimes, more rarely, hang out together with them. It’s not like Will couldn’t be closer to them if he wanted, he just isn’t really the social type of guy.

 

Beverly largely wins as a friend, spreading positive energy and keeping her expectations low but her hopes high on Will. Well, Jimmy is very funny to be around, but he’s always with Brian. Will doesn’t like Brian very much. He makes Jimmy suffer and hide it behind kind smiles and little laughs. Given that Will is an empath, he feels it all, and that makes him uneasy.

 

“Oh my God man, look up,” she grabs his arm suddenly. “’s Alana Bloom,” she whispers through gritted teeth.

 

Will follows her gaze and adjusts his always-too-low glasses. Alana smiles at him and waves, a soft pink blossoming on the pale skin of her cheeks. He waves back, her excitement lighting him up like a candle as if his. 

 

“You two are so tiptoeing around each other, like damn. Marry and have puffy little babies with blue eyes.”

 

Will chuckles. “Definitely looking forward to that.”

 

“Wanna hang out at my place today? We can have some tacos and watch some TV shows. Sounds good to you?”

 

The question makes Will shiver. It makes him think of Hannibal Lecter, a serial killer he’s fucking blackmailing, asking him if he would like his brew and biscuits.

 

“I’m sorry, Bev,” he says. He has a place to be that afternoon. “I didn't sleep at all last night. I think I’ll just close myself in and take a nap. Next time, maybe?”

 

Beverly nods, rolling her eyes with affection. “Sure, pretty one. Next time.”

 

 

 

*

 

 

Will finds Hannibal’s front door open that day. He closes it behind him, then wonders if he should leave it as he found it. He’s over-stressing. 

 

“Mr Lecter?” he calls. 

 

The house would be in complete silence if it weren’t for something muffled in the background. Will steps further in. His hand rests on the handrail, at the bottom of the stairs carved out of black marble.

 

Should he follow the music or wait?

 

His legs decide for him. He goes upstairs slowly. The music is still muffled—Hannibal must be playing.

 

Once he’s upstairs he follows his ears and stops in front of an open door. 

 

The melody falls silent.

 

“Will. Please do come in.”

 

“Er. Yes. Uhm,” he says stupidly. “Hello,” he can’t help but blush.

 

“I often get too into playing and lose track of time. The piano is quite a hazed instrument, ins’t it? It has the quality of a memory. That’s why I prefer the harpsichord. Sudden, entire, _alive_ ,” Hannibal looks lost in thoughts. He’s wearing a deep blue silken shirt and black trousers. His sleeves are carefully rolled up.It feels like he belongs to a painting. 

 

“I don’t think you ever lose track of anything.” Will gets closer to read the title on the sheet. It has none. “What were you playing?”

 

“How did you find it?”

 

Will understands. It’s Hannibal’s. Hannibal _writes music._ He’s impressed, but not as surprised as he should be. “Pleasant enough,” and he knows he’s teasing.

 

Hannibal knows too, of course. He nods, a little smile curling his mouth. “Do you play any instruments, Will?”

 

He shakes his head.

 

“Would you like to?”

 

“Are you offering to teach me?”

 

Maybe. I feel like we’ll be spending a lot of time together. Only if you want me to,” he adds. He moves a bit from where he was sitting on the black bench, creating empty space beside him. He taps the spot. “Come sit.”

 

Will isn’t sure how he feels about that.

 

“I don’t bite,” he adds with a little wink.

 

Will’s tongue burns to comment with something witty, but he restrains from that. He sits where a place was made for him to.

 

Sitting at a piano next to the Ripper feels… _Weird_.

 

Will turns to look at the man’s face, processing and memorizing details. “How old are you? And please, don’t answer with another question.”

 

Hannibal looks at him back.”I recently turned thirty-two. Do you think I carry my years well?”

 

Will bites his lip. “I guess. I’m not someone who could judge _that_.”

 

Something flashes in Hannibal’s gaze, but Will loses it because his eyes are low on his hands. “I see.”

 

*

 

 

“How did you start?”

 

“It’s not time for that yet. Let’s begin with something simpler.”

 

Will bites on his fingernail. “How does it _feel_?”

 

Hannibal leans on the kitchen counter. He folds Will’s smaller hand in his. “Don’t bite your nails. I know you’re nervous,” he holds it for a few moments, his touch almost hot on Will’s skin. “Don’t be. I’m the one who’s freedom’s at risk, right? You are in control.”

Will doesn’t have a clue on why his body relaxes after that. His shoulders deflate and breath rhythm changes, slowing down sweetly. Is he so easily malleable?

 

The man reads his body language like poetry. “Good.”

 

“Is that your answer?”

 

The man chuckles fondly. “Oh, no. Of course not.”

 

Will rolls his eyes. “Just tell me something, mr Lecter.”

 

“I can’t deny mr Lecter sounds good coming from you,” he begins. “Although I’m more used to doctor Lecter by now. I also think you could call me Hannibal.”

 

“Dr Lecter,” Will tests it. He ignores the first name basis he was offered. “What kind of doctor?”

 

Hannibal opens his fridge to take out a glass pitcher of lemonade. “I’m a former surgeon. My interests lean towards psychiatry now. I was considering starting a practice.”

 

_Great_ , Will’s inner voice says. Hannibal is a psychiatrist too. Could it get any easier for him to mess with his head? “Why’d you stop with surgery?”

 

Dr Lecter mixes the lemonade with a long spoon, then gets two long cylindrical glasses out of his never-ending kitchen. “Some of my patients didn’t make it. That brought me to quit.”

 

“You felt responsible for not doing your job as good as you should have?”

 

Hannibal cuts some mint leaves and puts them in both glasses. He gets a few ice cubs and puts them in too. “Yes,” he lets out. He pours the same amount of juice in both.

 

“ _Lies_ ,” Will reproaches. “You dropped the job because it didn’t feel as… Stimulating as you thought it would. Because it wasn’t funny enough.”

 

Hannibal handles him a glass. “Ginger flavored lemonade with fresh mint.” He looks at Will straight in the eyes as he brings the glass to his lips. “What a _remarkable boy_ you are.”

 

Will is glad he has a fresh drink to help him cool down.

 

 

*

 

Will opens his eyes slowly, one eyelid following the other. A blinding white light forces him to squint them right after.

 

He tries to raise a hand to cover it but he can’t move his arms.

 

The annoying tickle on his abdomen that had woken him up is keeping him so.

 

“Is the light too bright? I’m sorry, dear Will, let me move it. I didn’t expect you to regain consciousness this early.”

 

Will feels like throwing up his own heart. He doesn’t understand what’s happening around him, _to_ him. When the unclear shadow of a man dressed as a surgeon gets sharp against the light, little pearls of cold sweat begin to form on Will’s forehead. _Hannibal._ “What are you doing to me?”

 

Hannibal’s gloved and bloody hand rests briefly on his cheek. “You are always _so right_ about me. Since I couldn’t rejoice on my patients failing to survive, I wondered how would it feel to craft my design on them as they’re still alive,” he puts down his azure cloth mask. His smile is fond and ravishing. “Good boy, raise your head. Look at you.”

 

Will does, barely breathing. His stomach is cut open and his abdomen is one large, deep hole. Dried stripes of maroon blood grow out of its borders like rays of a red sun. His inside is filled with something like a hundred red-white flowers. His blood pressure falls and his vision goes blank. “What—Where—”

“These are Sweet Williams, did you know that? Perfect for a sweet boy like you.”

 

Will murmurs something he himself can’t quite catch, but Hannibal can.

 

“Don’t worry, dear. Your guts are right here, for us to put at use later. We can’t waste them, can we?” 

 

He feels something warm and sticky being placed in his hand. He barely has the time to register it’s his own insides when he wakes up.

 

It’s only three forty in the morning. He turns off his seven am alarm because he surely isn’t going back to sleep until the next evening. 

 

 

*

 

 

“Oh, wow, you look like shit. That got hit by a truck. A fast truck. A truck who was way over the speed limit.”

 

“That’s nice of you, Bev.”

 

As soon as they sit together for lunch, Jimmy and Brian reach out to them. 

 

“Hi Beebee,” Jimmy kisses her cheek. “And hi to you, Will. Ever thought about trying to audition for the casting of a Twilight movie? You sure have the looks.”

 

Brian snorts. “The saga is already finished, Jimmy.”

 

“Yeah. I remember you were like the biggest JacobxBella fan.”

 

Brian starts blushing furiously. “I am going to—”

 

“Buy me flowers for being so attentive to details? It’s about damn time.”

 

Flowers. Will closes his eyes. He remembers the research he did with his friends last years about their meaning in different cultures.

 

Sweet Williams. He cannot recall the message they bring along. He stops paying attention to his friends and gets out his phone to google them. His subconscious must have brought them up for a reason. 

 

_Sweet Williams hold the meaning of getting lost in a whole new world… a world of wonder and enchantment. “Come closer, for I have many things to show you.” These flowers are in tune with the inner heart chakra._

 

WIll’s breath catches in his throat. _Fuck_ , he thinks. 

 

*

 

 

Will goes straight to Hannibal’s house after school. 

When he arrives, Hannibal’s ushering a woman out of the front door. 

 

As he sees Will, he grabs her hand with delicacy and kisses it, eyes never leaving Will’s. It’s so intimate he feels his heart speed. Is the man playing with him?

 

The blonde lady turns on her high heels to walk to her expensive red car, parked few meters away. She’s classy, grace personified. Her hair is unrealistically curvy and her eyes are icy blue. She coldly tilts her head towards Will, then leaves.

 

“Will,” Hannibal claims his attention. “Advance is as rude as delay.”

 

Will heads towards him, a strange feeling growing between his ribs. He casts it aside. “I’m sorry. I won’t stay long.”

Hannibal frowns. “Won’t you?”

 

“Mh-mh. I wanted to tell you that I’m not coming for a few days. I’ll be fishing with my father. It felt rude to disappear _without forewarning_.”

 

“I understand. Thank you,” he nods. “I suppose you’re not coming in then.”

 

Will shakes his head. 

 

“You could have called me and saved yourself the bother to come here. You must have my number already.”

 

A guilty blush creeps up Will’s neck. “I..Yes, I have it.”

 

Hannibal smiles and fixes one of Will’s wayward curls. “It would be nice if you just felt like seeing me instead. Not that it is the case, of course.”

 

Will cocks his head to avoid Hannibal’s misguiding touch. “Who was the woman with you? You seemed close.”

 

“She was here as a friend today. On her work time she is my psychiatrist, Bedelia Du Maurier. A wonderful woman, isn’t she?” 

 

Will’s gaze lowers. “I guess. I should be going now.”

 

“Sure. I don’t wish to keep you…” he says, letting Will understand he actually does. “Don’t hesitate to call or text me if you need to.”

 

“Thank you, dr Lecter,” and he’s about to go when he remembers something. “Dr Lecter?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Do you happen to know what our heart chakra is associated with?”

 

“A lot of wonderful things my aunt taught me. I’ll tell you about her when you come _back to me,”_ he answers. “For now, I can tell you it symbolizes and channels our capacity to love: to transcend personal identity and limitations of our ego.” He gets closer. “It’s the foundation of unconditional connection. It allows us to find _beauty_ in _all_ things.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just got back on Twitter. I used to be on a lot before January, but then had to deactivate because of my busy and miserable life plans. Starting anew! Come say hi to me (or make requests or ask questions) [HERE](https://twitter.com/wiIIshannibaI)


	3. Playing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not that eventful. Next chapter will fuck things up a little bit. Let's call this the quiet before the storm? Yeah?  
> Thank you all for the support and kudos and comments and everything.  
> Oh, I also have something for #JustFuckMeUp in mind. Stay tuned.

 

_Human nature is like water._

_It takes the shape of its container._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_I’ll be back tomorrow, I think late in the afternoon_

 

Will sends the text with trembling fingers. He knows he’s acting silly, but who wouldn’t be nervous in his shoes? Isn’t he befriending the Ripper?

 

His phone buzzes a few minutes later.

 

_Good evening, Will._

_I’m glad I can have the pleasure of your company again. Will you stay for dinner tomorrow? You shall bring your biggest catch for us to cook together. I will pay it of course._

_Good night, rest well. See you tomorrow._

 

 

*

 

Hannibal opens his front door as Will is still to trying to find a way to explain—to lie to his father about their biggest trout disappearing from the fridge. 

 

Will thinks about the message he got the day before. He sees some of the pleasure Hannibal had mentioned soften his sharp features. “Hello, dr Lecter.”

 

“Hannibal,” the doctor tries to offer politely. “Hello, Will. Please, come in.”

 

A remote place Will’s mind can’t help but notice how good the white shirt he’s wearing looks on him. Far from how he himself must look with his peachy flannel one.

 

Will follows Hannibal in the kitchen, bag in hand. “Did _anything_ happen while I was missing?”

 

Hannibal takes a folded apron from the counter and ties it to his slender waist. It makes his shoulders look even larger. “Not what you most likely wish.”

 

Will bites his lip. “I brought a trout. It’s about 800 grams.”

 

Hannibal approaches. “Another big catch to keep me company.”

 

The kitchen knife in Hannibal’s hands is a threat to Will’s sanity for too many reasons.

 

The man looks focused as he cuts the fish inside of the glass bowl filled with water. He takes out its insides. Red and dirt spread in the once clean water like a growing disease. The veins on his naked forearms pop out and make him look carved out of marble. 

 

“You must be a great cook.”

 

“My guests would say so,” he seconds. “I’m transferring my passion for anatomy into culinary arts.”

 

A macabre idea scratches the back of Will’s mind. “Do you often organize dinner parties?”

 

Hannibal raises his head to look at him. “Fairly so.”

 

“You serve it to others too. The _meat_.”

 

Hannibal persists. “My menus are rarely vegetarian.”

 

Will gulps. “The _people_.”

 

“Nothing but pigs,” he washes the empty trout. As he grabs a towel and dries it, he adds: “Cows at most.”

 

Will frowns and chuckles. “Which one of the two am I to you?”

 

He sees Hannibal freeze for a second. “Take the salt grinder,” he opens the fish with his thumbs to let Will salt it. Once they’re close, he leans in slightly, forcing Will to look up. “Neither. You are the mongoose I want under my house when the snakes slither by.”

 

The way he says the words, more than their unclear meaning itself, sends shivers down Will’s spine. 

 

The moment breaks as Hannibal straightens his back. “Could you chop the parsley? I’ll take some butter.”

 

“Are we putting these inside, too?” he asks taking the knife he’s being offered.

 

“Yes. I chose a very simple recipe for our meal today. We’ll have plenty of time to wander into more elaborate plates.”

 

Will gives him a sidelong look as he cuts. 

 

“You’re doing well.” A pause. “You’re a _good boy._ ” 

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Will mutters dropping the knife. His thumb quickly starts bleeding. 

 

“Let me see,” Hannibal takes his wrist before Will can process it. He touches the cut with his lips, sucking just slightly. “I kissed it better,” he teases.

 

“That wasn’t very professional of you. Not even hygienic,” he comments, trying to hide the embarrassment and failing.

 

 

*

 

 

“Your _salmon trout with fresh orange juice_ was delicious,” Will admits sitting on the couch. 

 

“ _Our_ ,” Hannibal corrects. He revives the fire. It sends languid lights on his figure, making him look like he just got out of one of Blake’s paintings. “I’d offer you a drink, but I fear that would be illegal,” he sits next to Will, careful not to touch him. His smile flowers as Will gets the joke.

 

“Yeah, sure, wouldn’t want you to break the law for me dr Lecter” he chuckles.

 

“You wouldn’t have said no to some fingers of whiskey,” Hannibal tilts his head. “To loosen up. Do you often steal sips form your father’s bottle?”

 

Will’s lip part in surprise. He’s invested by the sudden fear of being spied on, which is kind of hypocrite by his side. He spent months watching Hannibal from afar. “Not that often. How do you know?”

 

“I smelled a hint of it in your breath when you first came here, in the lion’s den. The rest I assumed. Where are you in your father’s mind?”

 

“Hanging at my friend’s house,” he mutters. “Why so many questions?”

 

“As if I’m the one who keeps asking them,” Hannibal breathes out.

 

“I just keep asking ‘cause you never truly answer to what I ask. To what I want to know.”

 

“Thirsty for darkness,” Hannibal states fondly. “Come.”

 

Will follows Hannibal to the kitchen one again. The man opens his freezer. “I stuffed these in today, before you arrived.”

 

Throat clenching, Will steps closer to the frozen sacks. He feels like his heart changed location and is now beating in his head. He dares to take one. He recognizes two kidneys. “These are…”

 

“Yes.”

 

Will’s fingers are cooling but he can’t put the organs back in place. Those are _human kidneys_. Hannibal is going to warm them, touch them, cook them, eat them. He took them out in the first place. He swallows. “How does it taste? The meat?”

 

Hannibal takes the sack from Will’s hands and puts it back into place. “It depends on the recipe. On the _person_ , too.”

 

_The person who eats or that’s being eaten?_ “What do you mean?”

 

A second later, Will is pinned to the wall. The blade of a knife is caressing his jugular and he’s afraid to swallow. Hannibal is bent over him and he can’t see his face, only the empty, dark kitchen over his shoulder. 

 

“You’re sweating nervously,” Hannibal murmurs near his hear. He leans closer and breathes in.

 

“Did you just… smell me?”

 

“Difficult to avoid. You smell like fear, and adrenaline. You’re not just scared, dear Will. You’re _excited_. That’s how you would taste,” Hannibal sets him free.

 

Will’s hand runs to his throat. He massages it, as to be sure everything’s in place. “Would you like to kill me?”

 

Hannibal puts the knife into place carefully, as if it could break. “I would like it a lot. I do not wish to, though. Not for now,” he smiles, eyes shining in the dark. “Would you like to kill me?”

 

Will looks down at his feet, understanding in what kind of sick mess he’s thrown himself into and wondering if he will ever come out of it.

 

 

*

 

 “So your birthday’s in a week, big guy,” Bev gently elbows him.

 

“Can’t wait to be a legal adult and have fun.”

 

“Wanna be legal for older people? Anything I need to know?”

 

Will feels his traitorous face blush. “No! That’s not what I meant at all! What I—”

 

“Nice ass, kitten,” that’s all they both hear before a jock from the basketball team smacks Beverly’s back.

The hit is loud and Beverly hisses in surprise.

 

Will’s vision goes blind. He drops his schoolbag and grips the guy’s t-shirt, pushing him hard against the lockers and pinning him to them. He hits the back of his head and moans in pain. 

 

“Do touch her again without her consent and I will _kill you,_ ” he threatens through gritted teeth. He feels his mandible shake with rage. “I usually don’t like _rudeness,_ but I hate it when it’s towards my friends. Do you understand?”

 

The boy’s green eyes widen. “Yes. Fuck. Let me fucking go.”

 

Will releases him with a push. Beverly is staring at him in disbelief, just as anyone else. The hall is too silent. “There’s nothing to look at.”

 

The silence dissolves after that.

 

Beverly takes his bag and handles it to him. “Will, are you sure you’re okay?”

 

“Yeah, sure. What about you? I’m sorry that asshole touched you.”

 

“That asshole won’t even dare to look at me from now on,” she adds. “You could have got yourself into trouble.”

 

Will doesn’t want to think about what he did. They start walking to their next class again. Will’s gaze intertwines with Alana Bloom’s for a moment. From her concerned face, Will understands she witnessed the scene he made.

 

He manages to smile at her. She smiles back, tilting her head. 

 

Will drops his gaze to his friend. She’s overthinking what happened. “Weren’t we talking about my birthday, Bev?”

 

“Oh yes,” she seems to light up a bit at that. “There’s this party we could sneak into with Jimmy and Brian. You know, Alana’s gonna be there too.”

 

Will tries hard to get excited about it. He can’t.

 

*

 

“I almost beat up a guy today,” Will blurts out at some point.

 

Hannibal keeps putting his encyclopedic volumes in order on the shelf. “What did he do to you?”

 

“He touched my best friend’s ass,” is his plain answer. He looks out of the window, then back to Hannibal.

 

“Were you jealous?” the man asks, wiping a book clean with a cloth.

 

“No,” Will shakes his head. “He touched her without her consent. That’s assault. That’s—that’s _rude_.”

 

Hannibal turns to look at him. He looks pleased. “Did you want to hurt him?”

 

Will remembers his body shuddering in want. “Yes.”

 

“Doing bad things to bad people makes you feel good, doesn’t it” he resumes his work.

 

Will’s phone starts ringing. He takes it out of his pocket. “Sorry. I gotta get this. Hello?”

 

“Will? It’s me. Alana. Alana Bloom.”

 

Will’s mouth opens and for a second he doesn’t know what to say. Then he says the worst thing ever. “How did you get my number?”

 

Alana stays silent for moment. Will looks up at Hannibal, who’s both quite interested and amused. 

 

“Oh, sorry, I asked Beverly for it because you went home earlier. If you don’t want me to hav—”

 

“Oh, no, I want you to have it. I mean, it’s totally fine. I was just wondering.”

 

“Okay then,” Will can understand from her voice that she is smiling. “Just wanted to be sure you’re okay and… Are you coming at Margot’s party next week?”

 

Will sees Hannibal fold the cloth he was using. “I’m fine, don't worry. And yes, I’m coming.”

 

“That’s great. I guess… That was all? I don’t want to bother you. See you tomorrow, Will.”

 

“Bye, Alana. Thank you.”

 

“Nevermind,” she says, hanging up right after.

 

“You like her. This Alana Bloom.”

 

“Possibly.” Alana is beautiful. Intelligent, smart and well mannered. But. 

 

“Are you straight, Will?” Hannibal asks it as if he were to know what kind of ice-cream Will preferred. 

 

“What? Yes,” he says quickly. “Why are you even asking?”

 

“Just to get to know you better. I hope you’re not one of those people who assume everyone’s heterosexual until they're proven otherwise. That would be distasteful. You’re smarter than that,” he licks his lips.

 

“I’m not one of those people,” he mutters, moving his eyes from Hannibal’s mouth. “What’s your sexual orientation then, dr Lecter?”

 

Hannibal gets closer. He fixes the collar of Will’s shirt, his fingers grazing Will’s neck. 

 

Will fights hard to repress a shiver.

 

“I’m pansexual,” he answers, turning away. “”Are you familiar with the term?”

 

“Yes." He says nothing for a few moments. “Most of the time I feel like you’re playing with me.”

 

“I’m always playing with you, my _cunning boy_ ,” he smiles, reaching for a bottle of wine in his cabinet.  “I’m just waiting for you to join the game.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are like pizza to me.  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Say hi to me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/wiIIshannibaI)


	4. Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I had you waiting this long. Inspiration's back. Chapter's short only because I wanted to post something for you guys. It's Will's birthday!

“I want

To do with you what spring does with the cherry trees”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Will saw everything as if it was hiding behind a thin veil. Alana was laughing in front of him and the tingly sound of it was the only sharp thing that surrounded his dazed senses. She looked lovely, her cheeks flushed and hair messy, slightly damp of the sweat. She’d been dancing before. Will smiled fondly at her and finished his drink. 

 

Alana took his hand and he let her do. She was probably taking him outside and he needed some fresh air, even if as soon as they were out the cold breeze stung his skin almost painfully. Alana turned to him and tilted her head, a smile flooring on her pink mouth. 

 

“We’re gonna catch a cold, Alana,” Will whispered, suddenly laughing as if what he said was funny. He desperately needed to release the tension grumbling in his limbs because of his friend. Alana’s body was clearly tense, as if she was battling some inner desire. She walked closer and tiptoed to reach Will’s lips while he was still trying to separate his wishes from hers.

 

He melted into the softness of it all nonetheless. Alana felt like butter under his hands, his arms wrapped around her waist and hers around his neck, insistent fingers making their way through his hair. 

 

Somewhere between his ribs a weird sensation of something being _wrong_ made him hesitate for a second, causing him to draw back, just for his lower lip to be gently bit by Alana. He pushed the feeling back down in his guts, smiling to his friend. Did people kiss their friends? Was Alana his friend? He wanted her to be.

 

“Where are—where are we going?” Will asked, curious.

 

Alana kept walking without leaving his hand, still in hers. “My car. It’s my first car, so it’s not fancy or anything, but it’s warm inside of it. There’s some space too.”

 

The feeling from before surged again just between his lungs, causing a wave of anxiety to make him shiver. He wanted this, didn’t he? Alana’s body whispered beautiful things under her black dress, her eyes chanted them aloud. She was truly attractive, in and out, Will liked her. Then why couldn't he just let himself go for once?

 

He climbed in the passenger seat and sighed in relief when he saw Alana get in the driver’s one, without suggesting they went in the back. She tucked the keys in—when did she get them? Had she thought of how the situation would turn out?— and turned the air conditioner on. 

 

As Will’s body relaxed to the warmness that was surrounding he turned to look at Alana. She turned to him a few seconds later. 

 

“I’ve had a crush on you for a long time” she admitted, raising a hand to stroke Will’s cheek. 

 

_I know_ , was what Will wanted to answer, but he felt that would have sounded insensitive to Alana’s ears. He chose to smile instead. He was a lucky guy. He still wasn’t sure what was in him to be liked by a girl like her. 

 

She leaned closer. “Do you like me?”

 

Will’s brain started furiously looking for a good answer when someone knocked insistently at the glass, making them both jump. 

 

It was Margot Verger. Alana sighed in relief, her shoulders falling relaxed, and opened the door. Margot was tremendously attractive, Will could tell, even in that moment, with her hair swollen from the humidity of the night and her make up smudged. It took him one look at her to understand she was tremendously angry too, even though she cared to hide it.

 

“What’s up?” Alana asked.

 

“Was worried and wanted to check out on you,” she smiled sweetly. “I can see you don't need any help though,” she glanced at Will, her jealousy piercing through his chest like an arrow. 

 

Will wanted to leave. Will wanted to go—to go be with a friend who hadn't jealous friends. “We should go back inside.”

 

Alana opened her mouth and frowned, then nodded, without adding a word. “Okay,” she took the hand Margot offered her and locked the car once Will got out too. 

 

“Well, aren't you actually coming inside?” 

 

“Yeah, sure. I just…” _Just what?_  

 

“He needs to pee, Alana, let the boy live.”

 

Will smiled at that, and watched the girls leave hand in hand until they were inside. Only then he took out his phone and looked for his friend’s name in the contacts list, and called.

 

He only had to wait a few seconds more than usual. 

 

“Will?” his voice was deep and raspy. It made Will’s toes curl into his shoes.

 

“Come pick me up,” he asked, staring at the void in front of him. “ _Please_.”

 

 

 

***

 

 

Hannibal offered him a folded burgundy sweater. “Help yourself.”

 

“Thank you,” he replied. He left the glass of water he’d just emptied on the table in front of him. He stood up, leaving his jacket on the coach, and took the cloth. “Where..?”

 

“Where can you change?” the corner of his mouth perked up. He sat on the couch and gestured around him. “Here of course.”

 

Will felt himself blush and hated it. Was he being challenged? What did the challenge consist in, anyway? 

 

“I wont look if you don't want me to,” he added, letting the little grin he had on widen and take over his lips. 

 

Will had rarely seen Hannibal be so.. _domestic_. Dressed to be comfortable, hair natural and falling on his forehead, smiling wide. It made him feel unsteady. “I don’t care if you look,” which was true. Will would have only preferred he did. Maybe he was still a bit drunk.

 

He changed in no hurry so to not give away any emotions. He felt Hannibal’s eyes caressing him like ghost fingers. “This is warm.”

 

“I was wearing it when you called me.”

 

Will sat, his heart flattering weirdly in his chest. He spent nearly half an hour making out with Alana Bloom, and this was what made him weak in the knees?

 

“So. You got any presents for your birthday?”

 

Will nodded, looking at the flames dancing in the fireplace. 

 

“Alana Bloom gave you a present too.”

 

Will turned instantly, and instantly regretted it. He hadn't realized they were sitting that close. “What do you mean?”

 

Hannibal touched his nose lightly. “You smell like her,” he leaned closer and lifted Will’s chin, stroking his bottom lip with his thumb. “Your lips are red and swollen,” he added as his gaze dropped to them.

 

“We just kissed,” he whispered.

 

“Did you like it, Will?” he was genuinely curious.

 

“Yes. She’s very kissable.”

 

Hannibal let his hand slide down Will’s neck. “Did you want _more_?”

 

Will shook his head slightly. He didn't want Hannibal’s fingers to slip away. When they moved nonetheless, the spot felt as if someone’d taken off a patch too quickly. It was true, anyway, he hadn't wanted more from Alana. And even though it had felt good kissing her, under all those good feelings, regret was slowly rising.

 

Hannibal hooked his fingers on the hem of the sweater he’d given Will and raised it, covering the lower half of Will’s face. 

 

Will jerked back a little bit. “What are you doing?”

 

“Stay like this just a few minutes. Breathe in for me,” the man lowered his tone, voice now dripping an intimate authority that made Will comply without hesitation. “You are my good—good boy, aren’t you, Will?”

 

It took Will all the strength he had to not nod. His eyes were wide in the dim light of the living room, and his chest felt like blossoming. After what could've been an eternity, Hannibal let down the sweater and freed Will’s nose and mouth. 

 

“What was this about?”

 

The doctor leaned closer and tilted his head. Just before it could become a kiss—from which Will wouldn’t have backed out, he self noted—he breathed in. “Now your lips only smell like me.”

 

Will felt the urge to cover his crotch, because Hell, he was getting hard. Then again, Hannibal could most probably smell it. _I’m always playing with you_ echoed in his mind. _I’m just waiting for you to join the game._ So he bit his lips and looked straight into Hannibal’s eyes, like he rarely did. “Do you like how it smells, _Hannibal_?”

 

The sharp breath the man took in was a victory for Will’s pride, and a defeat for his body. The desire to be close, _closer_ to Hannibal was ravishing him. 

 

His phone started ringing just then. The moment broke. Hannibal cleared his throat and recomposed himself, backing away. Will answered the call.

 

“FUCKEN WILL GRAYAM! GRAHAM! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YO—”

 

“SHUT UP JIMMY! Will, I’m sorry, Jimmy was taking out his sexual frustration on you but well, actually, where the fuck are you? We were worried sick!” Beverly actually sounded so.

 

“I’m safe, I’m home. Are you crushing at Margot’s?” 

 

“Yeah, like everybody else. Most of them already passed out. I hope Mason never wakes up.”

Will chuckled. “Okay then, Bev. Thanks for checking in.”

 

“You’re welcome, babe,” there was a pause. “Wait. I picked you up to get here. How did you go home alone? Oh my God. You walked home?”

 

Will’s mouth opened and closed several times in a few seconds. “I—I—a friend drove me back.” He glanced at Hannibal. He was looking down at the fire, smiling.

 

“A FRIEND! WHO? I can’t believe you have other friends you haven't told me about—”

 

“Hey Bev, it’s my birthday. I can still wish for you to not worry about this and not make questions for now and you’d have to do that, right? Because it’s my birthday?”

 

Beverly sighed. “Still love me?”

 

Will smiled. “Always. Night.”

 

“Bye pretty boy.”

 

Hannibal stood up. “You can stay here if you want. I have a guest room you would be comfortable in. Although I could also give you a ride back home, you probably wish to spend time with your father on your birthday.”

 

Will was torn between the alternatives, but common sense had him leaning towards the latter. “I would appreciate the ride.”

 

Hannibal nodded, unsurprised. “Of course.”

 

On the car, everything fell silent. Of course Hannibal’s Bentley was luxurious enough to not make any unpleasant noises. The road felt smooth under the wheels. Will felt strangely safe. The night around him was of no danger. Will glanced at Hannibal’s profile.

 

Hannibal pulled over way too soon just in front of Will’s porch. He turned off the engine.

 

Will turned to face him. “Thank you for tonight,” then he remembered what he was wearing. “Your sweater…”

 

“Keep it,” Hannibal lifted a hand to stroke Will’s cheek with the back of his fingers. “It suits you. It’s the same shade of your cheeks when you blush.”

 

Will’s breath stuck in his throat. The same hunger from before surged from his insides in waves. He turned his face, flashes of Hannibal’s fingers in his head—cooking, touching him, _killing—_ and he kissed them lightly.

 

Hannibal’s eyes widened “You…” he let his voice trail off. Then both his hands cupped Will’s cheeks, slowly, allowing Will to back away if he’d want to.

 

Will didn't want to.

 

Hannibal’s breath crushed on Will’s lips. Just like that, their lips met. Hannibal’s were warm and soft and delicious on his. They made Will crave to know how is tongue would feel.

 

The man let him go with delicacy. “Happy birthday, my wonderful boy. See you soon.”

 

Will slept in Hannibal’s sweater that night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your support has been constant and crazy. I cannot thank you enough. I hope you'll stick by now that I am back! Sending you love for being here reading.
> 
> Say hi to me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/wiIIshannibaI) There you can dm me "requests" for Hannigram one shots. If I like the idea, I will write it for free and credit your message in the notes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Kudos and comments are more than welcome if you find them deserved.


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